The Art of Losing Isn't Hard to Master
by Cordelia McGonagall
Summary: Luna and Draco meet again for the first time on a train to Edinburgh. Rated T for a bit of language. Thank you to the fabulous littlebirds for her keen eye and skilled ear.


**The Art of Losing Isn't Hard to Master**

Draco never used to have headaches. Certainly he had reasons to, but the Draco who could slide through a day without gasping in pain was someone else from a long time ago, though even trying to recall who that person was made his temples throb. Draco supposed it didn't matter anymore. So little truly mattered.

His headaches were a demanding, ill-behaved brat to whom he would give in readily. Music on the wireless, a particularly quiet path in the park, a French restaurant with a beautiful menu - he'd avoided them all for fear of lights popping in front of his eyes, announcing the arrival of crushing pain.

He'd gone to St. Mungo's using the patient entrance once after a particularly nasty week. The Healer, just one year above him in her training, had frozen while reading his chart, her face inscrutable. She had quietly suggested he keep a diary of his triggers and then left, taking his chart with her. Soon after, he had left his training. He would have a good few days, and then in the chaos of the hospital hallway, his brain would pound against his skull. Had he known what to avoid, he might have stayed, but his diary was random: a singsong voice, a bouquet of peonies, picking up a _Quibbler_ in the lounge.

He went out less and spent more time in his flat reading history of magic. An evening distraction became an independent study, and an owl from the British Magic Library in Edinburgh carried the promise of release from his misery in London. The farther he was from the Ministry the better. He could never atone, and that was all St. Mungo's felt like some days. And he could never make himself feel, or be, good enough.

...

"Luna, Luna. Please. Please, Luna. I'll do whatever you need me to do. Please." Draco stood in front of the door trying to calm her, to stop her from walking out. He had never begged for anything, and he marveled at how quickly his pleading words tumbled out. Luna and he had never fought, and now that they had begun, it had quickly spiraled out of their control like Fiendfyre.

"No. This was madness. The whole thing. Harry..." Luna was gasping between words, her eyes wide.

"Potter? This is about _Potter_?" Draco lost his grasp on calm as he spat the name, his voice getting loud again.

"N-no. This is about me. For once, it's about _me_." Draco shook his head and opened his mouth, but Luna gulped a breath and rushed her words. "He was worried about me, Draco. That I was letting go of too much. I was opening myself to too much..."

"Can that bastard stay out of my life for just..."

"Me! Draco! He was worried I'd lose myself in you and hate you for it! He was right! I am changing for you! You are letting me! You want me to!"

Draco shook his head and reached out to touch her. Luna pulled away, but he stepped into the space between them, lowering his voice, trying to convince himself he could calm her. "If this is about the blue hair, I'm...sorry I overreacted. It's shocking, but I'm sure I'll get used to it. You just needed to..."

The fury in her face made him stumble backward.

"I needed to charm my hair blue! I need to ask every question you think is silly! I need to believe in my work! I need that Hallows tattoo!"

Draco had taken his fill of being shredded, of trying to calm her and himself. "What, you need a tattoo? You need it? To remind you they existed? You are brilliant, Luna." This he meant honestly, but he spat it into sarcasm. "Are you afraid you are going to forget? I assure you, I don't forget! Every time I use my wand, I remember!"

Luna nodded. Her voice was chilling. "The only thing I need to forget right now is you, Draco. I need to forget you." Without thinking, he caught what she threw at him, and he missed her slam the door as he stared at the heavy pile of random Muggle fobs linking together to hold one silver key.

Draco threw open the door to follow her, but she had meant it. She was gone. Leaving the door ajar, he staggered to the toilet and vomited. Resting his damp cheek on the cold marble tile, Draco half-expected Harry to apparate behind him and slash him open. Or maybe he just hoped.

...

Five years was not enough time to make Draco Malfoy welcome at the Ministry. The Unspeakables were called that for a reason; Draco had never been cleared to go anywhere near Luna's desk.

Even if she hadn't walked out on him.

Draco had been told " _no"_ more in the last five years than he had in his entire life before the War, but he still held out hope that she would say " _yes_ ," that he could make her face glow with love and forgiveness. It had been two weeks. They couldn't be over after just two weeks.

The florist had pulled a face when he insisted on adding dirigible plums to his bouquet of peonies and roses. She had tutted, "I don't really think..."

"You don't really have to," he had snapped, and then thought of Luna, and sighed. "I'm sorry. I've been rude. My...girlfriend loves them."

The florist had raised her eyebrows and turned her back on him, muttering to herself. He had taken the bouquet without waiting for his change and made his way without permission or explanation to the Ministry and her desk. He knelt in front of it to catch her eyes as they rose from the parchment in front of her. Her face brightened, and he gasped in relief as he silently promised her, Merlin, and the world to be better.

"Ohhhh! Plums! Lovely. You look very worried." She examined his face carefully. "And tired. I'm Luna Lovegood. May I help you?" She frowned slightly as she watched Draco stop breathing. "Oh! You are Draco Malfoy, aren't you? I'm sorry I didn't notice at first. You look a bit older. I think it's the hair. May I help you find someone?"

Draco stared at her. Blood rushed into his ears, and he felt someone drag him to his feet.

"Potter!"

Harry Potter looked at him grimly. "We are walking. Let's go, Malfoy."

Draco did not seem to notice that Harry had his arm around him, that he was being half-carried down the hall and into the lift. When Harry shoved him off, Draco sagged against the wall and started spitting questions. "What happened to her, Potter? What have they done to her? What have you let them do?"

Harry stared at Draco, and then leaned his head on the lift wall and stared at the ceiling. He didn't wait for the doors to open fully before he pushed Draco through them into the lobby, taking the length of the polished floor in long, purposeful strides. Draco was starting to breathe hard from the jog and the panic.

"Potter!"

"Not here," Harry hissed. He grabbed Draco, and a moment later, they were in an alleyway. Harry let go of Draco more gently this time, taking a moment to examine Draco, who was now gasping for air, looking behind him as if he were watching for Luna to follow.

"I hate you, Malfoy," Draco started at the anger shaking in Harry's voice. "I was upset with Luna, but I hate you. I hate myself for not having been able to stop you two."

Draco sneered. "You can't stop people from loving each other. Not even the Boy-Who-Lived can do that." Draco blinked in confusion at the silence that followed. Harry looked sorry for him as he pulled an envelope out of his pocket. It was addressed in Luna's handwriting to him. Inside was a form letter.

 _The sender of this letter has chosen to remove you from his or her memories, either in part or in sum. Please do not contact this person further; our work is thorough, and a meeting would surely result in confusion for them and pain for you. Should you wish for a similar peace, please send inquiries by owl for a free initial consultation to: Elysian Obliviators, 182 Diagon Alley, London._

There were testimonials from family and friends of clients on the back, but Draco's hands were shaking too badly to read them. Harry noticed this, too, and his voice softened.

"Draco, I don't know what happened between you, but it was too much for her. She scared me. She wasn't sleeping. She cried for days, and then an owl delivered this to me at home. It was too late to stop her."

"You wanted to stop her from forgetting she loved me?"

"Of course I did, you arrogant..." Harry swallowed the slur on his tongue and folded his arms. "Luna has been through so much, and it's all made her who she is. I was sick with worry that this would take her away from us."

Draco looked at Harry, sure that Harry could see fear radiating from him in visible waves. Harry answered it.

"I don't think it has. She seems like she was before...before you."

Draco squeezed his burning eyes shut. "Why?" He didn't care that his voice cracked, but Harry's sympathy was short lived.

Harry's voice was a low growl. "That, mate, is a fucking excellent question. You might want to start there, before your trail of destruction gets any longer. Stay away from her. She remembers watching her mum die. She remembers being in your bloody cellar, digging a nail into her wrist trying to escape. But she needed to forget she loved you. Think about that."

The ground blurred before Draco. He heard Harry turn with a quiet click back to the Ministry, and to Luna, who only two weeks ago was his. She'd collected all his proof with a barrage of brutal _Accios_ : photographs, passionate letters, stray hair ties in the bathroom cupboard. He gripped her tangle of key fobs, the only reminder she had neglected to repossess. Draco went to toss the form letter in the rubbish bin, but his hand instead crumpled it, and he shoved it in the pocket of his coat.

...

The train pulled away, and Draco relaxed into his seat. He fiddled with a troubling pile of Muggle key fobs he had kept from his flat. Pushing a little light on the Alton Towers one, he wondered, not for the first time, how such a strange assortment of souvenirs had come into his possession. Perhaps a former tenant had left them behind. He marveled too about being on the train at all, for a portkey would have been so much easier than navigating timetables, pounds, and the clots of Muggles in Euston Station. But the headaches were so new, and so intense, he'd avoided apparation of any kind after a recent Sunday given over to his dark bedroom. Through the chaos he was trying to block, the scent of peonies wafted over him. His head began to pound in frustration. He opened his eyes to ask the person who had quietly settled beside him to move, but as he opened his eyes, his head cleared.

A pale young woman with a warm smile spoke to him gently. "Sorry to have woken you. This was the last seat. Did you ever find what you needed at the Ministry?'

Draco scowled in confusion. He hadn't been to the Ministry since the trials, but he didn't push her to explain. This happened more often than he would like to admit, and Draco always found the conversations that followed his questions to be more frustrating than satisfying. He chose to focus on the lack of pain for now, and he looked at her and relaxed. "Luna." Her hair had been charmed silver, and it made her face glow in a way that made Draco stare, a small smile forming on his face from the pleasure of looking at her.

Her smile widened as she saw his grin. "Hullo, Draco. I don't remember you smiling before."

He held her gaze and his grin. "I don't remember having much to smile about before."

Luna looked at him, appreciatively. "You are much more handsome this way. I suppose it's good I didn't know you could be handsome. It might have made it awkward, being tied up in your cellar when I didn't ask to be."

Draco wasn't sure if this was blunt honesty or gallows humor, but it suited him more than pretending. He huffed a grim laugh. A thought crept into his head with a tug of pain. "Luna, I know I wrote you, but I don't think we've really spoken since the War, and I need to tell you, I am so sorry. About all of it." He bit his lip and waited. He had apologized enough that he had finally learned how to do it well. It required meaning it.

She yawned, and Draco blinked at the last reaction he would have expected, even from someone as unpredictable as he remembered Luna Lovegood to be.

She waved off the yawn with a lazy dismissal. "Oh, I've been getting tired suddenly lately. Comes and goes. So interesting. Yes. I did get your owl. Thank you. It meant..." She looked sleepy and puzzled. "Did I respond?"

She yawned again. Draco frowned at the shadow of a headache curling at the base of his skull. "I...I am sorry, Luna. I don't recall. It feels like so long ago that..." He looked to her with confusion, but the threat of pain twisted away again at the sight of her. He smiled at her, hesitantly.

She nodded. "I think this means that we should start over. Hello, I am Luna Lovegood. May I sit here?" Luna held out her hand and cocked her head playfully.

Draco took her hand and shook it firmly. "Draco Malfoy, at your service. This seat is yours for as long as you would like it."

She nestled next to him with more familiarity than was appropriate at what should have been, at best, a brief and guarded reunion, and he realized with a feeling that he had forgotten - a wonderful nervousness - that he liked it very much. She sighed. "I don't remember you being this polite at Hogwarts."

He pulled back to look at her. She was looking at him out of the corners of her eyes in a way that couldn't be anything other than flirty. He grinned again. "Okay, I will play. No, Luna, I wasn't at all polite at Hogwarts. But if my memory serves, you were always this blunt." He rolled his eyes at her.

She smiled, and it gave him a urge to be far more daring than he thought he had any right to be. He leaned down to her and breathed in peonies. He closed his eyes. He spoke low into her ear. "I wasn't kind at Hogwarts, so I didn't appreciate the beautifully kind girls that were right in front of me. I think I am much better at that, now." He pulled away and smirked, and Luna laughed appreciatively at his flirting. He knew she could tell he wanted to mean it. He couldn't imagine why peonies had been giving him headaches; he couldn't get enough of them now.

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! This was written for the Quidditch fanfiction competition, and as Chaser 2, I chose to do a movie crossover with the themes and plot of _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless_ _Mind_ as my muse, so full credit goes to authors JKR and Charlie Kaufman. Acknowledgement goes also to Elizabeth Bishop, for the title of this little fic is the opening line from her stunning poem "One Art."**

 **Optional prompts (I don't believed they counted, but they are there, nonetheless) were the words _silver_ , _letter_ , and _honest._ (I use the word _honesty_.)**


End file.
